Sunday, February 17, 2008

I lay still in the noisy nightRain drops hitting my window-sill like the tapping of an alley cats pawUnbothered by the soundMy heavy eyes staring @ the screen as I thumb typeMy mind still focused on the outcome of her new journeyWanting to protect her from The WolvesKnowing she's still yet a Young SheepSurvival built within ever persons structure but worried that maybe one switch was missedHappy for her hopes and smilesEven joyful for her joyBut malice intent halo's over the head of he in my not so 20/20 vision eyesI try to blink the thoughts away but my heart stays heavyI remind Young Sheep, never be blinded by words because actions are the true story tellersSurrendering myself to sleepI'm going to rest now and just prayMy pastor recites, we feel prayer is the least we can doBut in all actuality its the most we can doWell Young Sheep wander onMaybe MG (MY GOD) or OG (OUR GOD) will activate the switch

Thursday, February 14, 2008

Today was a peculiar day for a girlie like meAnd array of African cultured scents filled the streets of my Old YorkA scent clearly not to my likingBut he or it shadowed me throughout this couple dayNever in my life have I seen so many flowers handled by ManDid someone die I thoughtI usually see the flowers being moved around gravesThe petals of fallen roses decorated the station steps as I stepped downWhere is Ahkeem???Appeared in my mind...The theme "Flower day" was more like itAnd expression of his deep, hard-felt true LoveThe weak, the tough, the small, the tall all displayed this inexpensive thoughtful gift to the various ladies of their livesBut all I wanted were LilliesYellow ones if you maySimple Spring non-Valentine flowersMy name isn't RoseI'm no member of the 2.14 lovers club My day is just a breath awayI just wanted LilliesJust to take my mind off the cold winds that Old York just keeps having to offerBut he said, they didn't have themAnd no goose chase for youI love you but you're not my loveWhich is fine because one can't be on another's money mind all the timeYes I'm spoil but I've done that to self of lateShit last year I've paid for datesBut not in this yearNot for a nut and a momentary smileI tell you it isn't worth it nowAs my nose takes a rest from the African oil scents and the Valentine love mistI'm just happy to BatheAnd say I've survived yet another dayI don't require gifts to speak love into my earsI'd rather the I made it thru another year tearsThe clock really begins todayMy 28 is a mere 28days awayBut shit I did want Lillies

Friday, February 1, 2008

Ever step on the iron horse and get a dose of confusing energy?I have...2day my thoughts have been so deep that my mind just pondersI look around @ the various ethic faces that sit and stand b4 meAnd just wonderWhat R their stories?I can't read minds but I do perceive self as being keen when it comes 2 energyBut there are so many different angles that energy bounces uponMoment after momentA chemist couldn't keep trackEven though I can not put my finger onA direct connectionI feel our unconcious love still somehow intertwines

My eyes are like running streamsMy tears don't have a set patternThey flow from check to nose down to mouth pass my chin straight for my chestI think they're trying to find my heartThey want to put out the fire that's burning insideI hurt, I hurt moreIt's my fault being the fool againWhen you think you have buried the fool insideHe arises againI prayed on thisBut maybe I wasn't prayed upI was once told you must be prayed upYou can't squeeze your prayers in when you need your father mostI should have needed him alwaysCalled on him alwaysNow I hurt, I hurt more

I reached the 24th full hourNot even and inkling of who He wasWho He isWho He will beNot even sure there is a HeMy heart lost in the mist of the Bermuda TriangleI imagine a sticky nights fogDo you know how many stories are present thereNovels written about the death of He or SheNow Nia C. fills the pages that beMy cup runneth overYet Joy is not aroundShe packed her bags and moved out of my young soul's townMy new beginning starts when the hairs are cut from my headWriting being my true callingIs what my horoscope readSidney Piotier was a piscesHarry BelafonteAlbert EinsteinYes I'm aware that talent haunts my daysMaybe I'll just fall in love with wordsLike in William Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet playGod I call unto youThe celebration of the birth of Jesus ChristA quarter spent on yet another new lifeHair being my strengthCut it away from meI fall weak unto your wordRebuild me O' LordStrip me of my 07 sinsTeach me how to love myself the same way I do my next of kinsLove is the breast of my soulAnd the milk has all driedReplenish me as you wishNomore falling victim to white liesCast my purpose upon me once againMy work not the least bit done here on your earthGod I foresee my rebirthMaybe when I rediscover MeThe time will move nearAnd He will arrive from my one Prayed Up tear

My Story

PROVERBS 3:13-19
Happy are those who find wisdom and those who get understanding. For her income is better than silver and her revenue better than gold. She is more precious than jewels and nothing you desire can compare with her. Long life is in her right hand; In her left hand are riches and honor. Her ways are ways of pleasantness and all her paths are peace. She is a tree of life to those who lay hold on her; Those who hold her fast are called happy.